


Unpossbilities

by Hypatikar



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: All the Think Tanks have been given synth bodies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And it's so adorable to write, Awkward Crush, Dala is naughty, Dr. 0 just wants validation, Dr. 8 is a nice guy, Dr. Klein needs a hug, ENFJ Courier, Everyone is in love with the Courier, F/F, F/M, Good Courier, Hope, House-Aligned Courier, Huge nerds, Mental Illness, Nerdiness, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Post-Hoover Dam Battle (Fallout), Psychoanalysis, Psychology, Recovery, Rehabilitation, SCIENCE!, Synth Think Tank, Synths, The Think Tank (Fallout), They're all kissless virgins, Unrequited Love, as always
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatikar/pseuds/Hypatikar
Summary: A few months after the Battle of Hoover Dam, House-aligned Courier, Harmony, has stayed behind in Big MT to help rehabilitate the members of the Think Tank, helping them acclimate to their new, synthetic bodies. All of them begin to see Harmony not as a lobotomite, but as a caretaker, a counselor, a friend, and as a love interest. She tends to all of them, treating them all as special and deserving of love, a concept they'd forgotten until her.
Relationships: Female Courier/0, Female Courier/8, Female Courier/Borous, Female Courier/Dala, Female Courier/Klein, Female Courier/Mobius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Doctor 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor 8 comes to terms with his "human" body, and thinks about how much the Courier has helped them all, especially him. He analyzes his feelings for her, and is certain he has a crush on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Think Tank was just so magnificently written that I couldn't forgo writing about them. I'm not sure how much I'll be updating this, but I hope for it to be completely finished by the end of the month. My favorite of them was Dr. 8, who seemed to have the sweetest disposition of all of them, but I hope to be impartial, as I write from all their perspectives regarding their feelings towards Harmony, one of many of my House-aligned Couriers (watch out Mr. House, I have a Mr. House/Courier fic in development). All of the Think Tanks have been given corporeal bodies, including Mobius. For their contributions to science, the Institute, which was formerly the CIT, has given them synthetic bodies. The Courier is helping them adjust, and she loves all of them, equally.

Even before, when 8 was still merely a brain suspended in biomed gel, he retained some respect for humanity, unlike his comrades, who only saw test subjects. But 8 worked with sound waves, and therefore was less interested than his colleagues regarding dissecting humans. The Courier who saved them all from a sour fate a few months ago had a beautiful voice, a voice he could spend nights upon nights studying, with the aid of mentats, of course.

It was still strange, however, to wake up and see his extremities. Ever since the Courier had made contact with the remnants of the CIT, now known as the Institute, to help them get corporeal bodies, his colleagues and especially 8 had experienced trouble in acclimating to having human bodies again. No longer were he and his colleagues at Big MT enslaved to the will of Mobius, no longer were they brains-in-vats, unable to experience and live. Even Mobius had been gifted with a synth body, but the rift between he and the rest of the scientists at Big MT were still trapped in a discordant, yet.. workable companionship. Needless to say, he rarely saw Mobius around.

Dr. 8 stretched out his arms, being in a synth body meant there was no possibility of muscle atrophy, but it didn't help him grow accustomed to physical activity. The Courier helped rehabilitate all of their physical bodies, and 8 knew there were signs of progress. Subtle, but there. He knew not if her help would be enough to heal the scars that madness and loneliness had left on them, on all of them, especially himself, who hadn't had a friend to speak to in years, having been cast aside as the mute and unintelligible one after his voice module was corrupted by that foul technowizard. The Courier, however, had understood half of what he said even back then, taking everything he said into account in her decision making, defending him in front of Dr. Klein, who could be intimidating at the best of times.

They had a lot to thank her for. Some of the others, like Borous and Klein, were far too stubborn, and it was apparent that remnants of their madness still licked at their minds, for they refused to allow the Courier to help them. 0 and 8, however, owed much to her for everything she'd done. Out of all of his colleagues, though, Dala was progressing the quickest. Dala had always been the least shy of them, the least afraid to take risks, the most adventurous, as it were. 8 had always been the quiet one, even before he lost his voice.

A light knock sounded on the metallic door, and he knew it was the Courier. None of his colleagues visited him much, they were far too intrigued with how their new bodies worked. Borous and Klein schemed together, Dala was already going out for short walks, 0 was isolating himself in his pod, and none of them had said anything to 8 in weeks. Forever, he would be the forgotten one..

Her small, sharply dressed figure entered slowly. She was always so pretty, he thought. The prettiest thing he'd seen in hundreds of years, maybe even in his whole life, seeing as he never had much luck with the opposite sex, that he could recall. Memories of his former life were vague at this point, but he knew one thing - he'd never been hugged by a girl who wasn't his mother before the Courier. Not that she would ever look upon him with such attraction, she was just too cool for him. Too smooth, too pretty, too experienced. She was an action woman, and he was a lonely, friendless scientist who hadn't been hugged by a girl since he was a teenager. She was an unpossibility, but as a scientist, he pondered on all the possibilities, and in one of those possibilities within the infinite multiplicities of possibilities, she returned his crush.

"It's time for your dinner, Dr. 8. Chopped Brahmin steak in a tortilla with some carrots and tatos on the side. Doesn't that sound good?" She asked, setting his dinner tray next to his bed pod on the nightstand. She pulled up a chair next to his bed, where she usually sat when she visited him in the mornings and evenings. He wished she visited him more often than she did, but the Courier was a busy woman and she had more things to do than act as a mother hen for the sorry state of a 'human' being he'd become.

"I know that look, Dr. 8. Don't feed your misery, it will only eat you from the internal to the external. Mental trauma begins in our heads, but after awhile, it becomes apparent in our physical bodies too, which is why those who are depressed often suffer from aches and other physical pains. I've invited you to walk through the Sink with me several times, and maybe we need to do it more often. I know what you think, that your colleagues have forgotten you, but that's not true, sweetheart." He loved it when she called him that, it made him feel like someone actually cared about him, as though she would make sure all of his troubles were taken care of. "Dala asks about you all the time, and so does 0. They both want to see you around more. And so do I." She smiled, taking the tray from his nightstand and placing it on his lap.

She always did this when she brought him his breakfast and dinner. She watched him eat, helping him if he needed it, while offering sagely, therapeutic advice about the feelings he'd forgotten he had until he'd received his new, physical form. He could grasp a fork and knife well enough, but she'd had to cut nearly all of his meat in the beginning, even had to spoon feed him the first couple weeks. It was humiliating, but somehow he had a feeling that she didn't hold it against him.

"D-do you w-want to walk with m-me, Harmony?" He stuttered, his voice still weak and hoarse from disuse.

"After you eat, we'll go for a little walk. But you need to eat first, you need to keep your strength." She said amiably, placing her hand on his skinny arm, lightly squeezing it. It always felt electrical when she touched him, and at first, he thought there was a glitch in the programming of his corporeal body, but he'd read enough on psychology to know it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, because he had a fixation on her.

The steak was delicious, even though he knew one of her many robots had cooked it. Still, he enjoyed pretending it was she who cooked it and cared for him. He finished his dinner as quick as possible. He was still a scientist, after all, and viewing his physical needs such as hunger as nothing but a means to an end came with the territory. Besides, he knew that this is when Harmony would speak with him, and he liked rushing to this moment. This was his favorite time of the day - when she'd bring him dinner, walk with him, and talk to him, like she really cared. As if she hadn't done the same thing for all of his other colleagues. Let it be known, though, that she spent more time with him than the others. If he wasn't a nice guy, he would've rubbed that in Klein's face.

"Are you ready to go for a walk, Dr. 8? We can walk a little more tonight, maybe take you outside a little? Not too far from your home, but I believe it would be best for you if you could stretch your legs a little bit more. I'll accompany you, of course." She reassured, her eyes twinkling with kindness.

"I w-w-would like that." He said weakly.

"You're getting better with your speech, Dr. 8. I know it is something which will take a long time to adjust to, having to move your lips now, to be able to speak. But you're a clever man, you'll be talking even better than me soon, I'm sure of it."

He snorted in disbelief, an uncomely sound from him. "I d-doubt th-that very much."

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we? I'll be with you every step of the way, sweetheart. You don't ever need to worry about how quickly or slowly you're going. Just know that you'll get there, eventually. The healing process is never linear."

He made to lift himself from his bed, his knees weak but otherwise stable. He was able to walk on his own mostly, every now and then having to lean on Harmony's shoulder for support. He disliked being such a burden, such a dependent, but he didn't mind being taken care of by the woman. She was small in comparison to his tall, lanky synthetic body. His memories from before were vague, but he knew he had always been the tallest of the scientists in Big MT. The tallest and the quietest, as always. Even though he could support himself fine, she held his hand as she led him out of his small pod. He cherished the contact, squeezing it hard, uncaring and unknowing if it would pain her.

The madness he and his colleagues suffered still lingered on the edges of his fragile psyche, but the fog of depression lifted with everyday he spent with the Courier, who had sacrificed her fame and glory in the Mojave to tend to the frail scientists at Big MT. He knew he had deduced her correctly when she first waltzed into their research facility months ago, a lobotomite who was capable of speech, cunning, and advanced problem solving. He was the first to defend her and speak for her, at that time she was still an 'it', of course.. but those days had passed. It was awkward, to say the least, to come across his colleagues. An onlooker might imagine they'd be closer, more amiable, but the fact of the matter was there had always been competition between them. When they were still merely brains suspended in biomed gel, it was easier to act as a collective. But now armed with synthetic bodies, it was no longer necessary for them to act as a collective. It was freeing, to say the least. Finally, they could once again embrace competition and friendly rivalry. If only they could all be smoothly ambulatory.

Harmony was practiced in the medical sciences, most specifically psychology and psychoanalysis. This was a touch alien to the Think Tank, as most of them were quick to call such fields "psuedoscience", but they clearly had no authority to say this now, considering without the psychologist, they would still be trapped, unaware of any world outside of Big MT, existing as hollow shells of their former selves.

It was Harmony who continued to reassure him that the emotional healing process was not linear, which was a difficult statement to ponder on, considering he was a scientist, therefore more accepting of things which could be proven empirically. Harmony said, though, that the highest of sciences was the study of the human psyche, which could be likened to a deep, endless ocean with a wealth of creatures who could be either helpful or dangerous. While Klein was skeptical of nearly everything the Courier said, even he could not argue against that. The Think Tank had underestimated and devalued the human form and its psyche for far too long, and now, they reaped what they sewed. But all of them were thankful, especially 8, who could now think, feel, and touch.

Dr. 8 so wanted to believe that she treated only him like this, but he had always been doubting of himself, even before he was just a brain. Sure, he had analyzed her schedule, calculated how much time she spent tending to the others compared to him, and it turned out to be that she spent the most time with him, but his nagging self-doubt remained.

"Let's go this way, Dr. 8, somewhere you haven't been in ages." She was leading him outside, and he was excited, but simultaneously scared.

"Outside?" His voice was a little less weak, from hope, he liked to think.

"Yes, we are going outside. Don't worry, I'll protect you from anything out there. Besides, we won't be walking too far." She said, her hand still grasping his. "You know, I've been meaning to get the exercise room here renovated. It won't be safe for any of you to wander off alone without me for several months, I imagine. So, we will need to work on fixing up the contraptions in the fitness quarters, so that you get those muscles in shape." She squeezed his bicep jokingly, causing the scientist to blush profusely.

"It w-would-d be pru-dent to ask Dr. 0 for an-n-y kind of help y-you require. He has all-ways doubted his intellect, but he is a master of technical engineering. Of course, I'll help you with anything you need, or, anything I can." He continued awkwardly, "I m-may not be able to help you with some things, but for you, I'll try.." He flushed, bashful of his blatant affection towards her. She probably thought he was a lonely, centuries-old creep by now, which wasn't far from the truth.

"Well, maybe you, me, and Dr. 0 can think of something. Mr. House, my former employer in New Vegas, offered to send some securitrons here to help fix this place up. He also offered some spare parts, if we need any, for the treadmills and stationary bicycles."

"Robert House, a-as in the CEO and founder of RobCo industries? H-he is alive?" This was news to 8, unsurprising though. Dr. 8 hadn't had as much of a grudge toward Robert House as his colleagues, such as Klein and especially 0 had.

"Of course he is! He survived very much the same as all of you did, though he retained his corporeal body, and therefore his senses, kind of.. perhaps one day, when you're fit to travel, I'll take you to talk with him. Two scientists such as yourselves, should get along splendidly. Mr. House needs more friends than just me, after all, and the same goes for you, Dr. 8."

"What if I don't w-want any other friends?" He sulked. He was aware now that there was an entire world out there, but it was still intimidating. And he wasn't confident like Dala, nor was he arrogant and insensitive enough like Klein to not care how others would perceive him.

"Nonsense, Dr. 8. You possess a world of potential within that brilliant head of yours. Others would be fortunate to know you, as I consider myself to be. You have so much to share with the rest of the world. There is no use for you hiding in Big MT for the rest of your existence, when all your beloved possibilities are right out there." She used her free hand to emphasize the horizon beyond Big MT.

Now that he had fleshly eyes to observe the environment, he could finally see how disgusting the land looked around them, and it was all he and his colleagues' fault. Their sin was shaping their own little world of Big MT into a playground of sorts, play-pretending that their lobotomites were the children, and they, the Think Tank, were the principals. Gone were trees, those tall plants whose images he could vaguely recall in his mind's eye. He missed trees, or at least, he thinks he misses trees. He'd never been one to covet nature, preferring his technologies and sound studio.

The one thing that was not ugly, was Harmony. In comparison to the sludgy, gray, discolored and neglected landscape of Big MT, she glowed. But, she glowed even when she was under the light, at least to him. Her ginger hair shined in stark contrast against the grays of their environment, and with his new, long fingers, he wanted to touch it, like he'd touched his mother's hair as a child, all those centuries ago.

"D-did you really mean it when you s-said I had a world of potential, Harmony?" He asked, looking down at his feet to avoid looking her in her vibrant, blue-green eyes, a color that reminded him of the sound of ocean waves and blue whales, one of his favorite frequencies to study.

"Of course I mean it, Dr. 8. I have sacrificed many of my own ambitions and desires simply to help you, for I know when you are more accustomed to having a body and using it, you will be able to sculpt the future for the better of humanity, even more than I can." She said, looking up at him and attempting to catch his gaze. His eyes shyly looked from the ground and then to her eyes, unsure of where he wanted them.

"Tell me, Dr. 8, how did you become an audio engineer? Do you remember what awoke your passion in the field of sound waves?" She asked.

He did remember. It was difficult for him to remember things in detail, every memory of his life before was a vague outline. Mysterious and unknown. But this memory was too important to be blocked out by Mobius, and Mobius wasn't callous enough to erase something that significant anyways. Suddenly, his mood shifted from melancholic and doubting, to excited and more sociable. Harmony had a way of baiting his best qualities out of him, it's but one reason among hundreds why he loved her. And yes, he'd counted all of the reasons and had organized them in his mind.

"I do recall. I had a younger brother, his name was Mitchell, though I can't remember how much younger he was. Young enough for his cries to gain my curiosity, I suppose. Unlike others around me, his cries didn't annoy me, per se. They intrigued me. How could sound be painful and ear-shattering, if it can't even touch you physically, like a hand would? That is how I became interested in sound.." He realized he hadn't stuttered one bit in his entire speech, and was proud of that feat.

"And I suppose it was you that kept the music broadcast up all these years." He nodded eagerly, appreciative of her validation. "I adored those melodies, Dr. 8. You have an excellent taste in music, I must say."

Color rose in his pale, gaunt cheeks then, as he struggled to maintain eye contact. How wonderful Harmony was, to appreciate him like no one else did. He knows she said that the others were worried about him, but he struggled deeply with reconciling with those who appreciated him more when he was silent. Rationally, he knew that they weren't mad, depressed brains-in-vats anymore, but none of them had ever shown any gratitude towards him, except for the Courier.

"Th-thank you, Harmony. I chose them specifically because they gave Dr. Klein a headache, if I recall correctly. And, I-I admit to having a love of lounge music. It's.. it's quite cozy. It-it conjures up some memories, that, paradoxically, I have forgotten.." He hadn't meant for melancholy to seep into the edges of his voice, but there was no method of prevention for it. He was a sad, lonely thing, and if it hadn't been for Harmony, his voice wouldn't even exist at all.

"Then we'll forge new memories for you, Dr. 8. And they shall be so joyful that forgetting them will be 'unpossible', as your colleagues say. I have made it my life's quest." She said.

Then, she did the unthinkable, the UNpossible. She kissed him on his cheek, causing a stray hand to touch that warm spot where she lingered for less than two seconds. He'd already counted. Maybe there was a future for him, after all.


	2. Borous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, it is time for Borous to finally receive his validation and healing from the non-linear process of emotional recovery. Our favorite b-rated sci-fi movie narrator deserves happiness, and finally, he will receive his chance at it.

The clock read seven in the morning, though Borous was still confounded on the concept of time. He understood it, of course, unlike his former self, though years of living without senses, through Mobius' reprogramming (which he now understood was a small mercy), and through over two centuries of utter loneliness, left him feeling incompetent towards most matters. Confidence in his abilities hadn't left him, but he no longer viewed humanity through detached lens, as if they were nothing more than laboratory rats who he could make squirm. Sure, those urges to make animals squirm was still there.. but he stifled it. He knew now the importance of mercy, the Courier had taught him. 

But.. there was still the emotional conflict rattling about in his skull. These few months of having restored reasoning capabilities and self reflection once again provided him with the time he needed to reflect on all of the horrible things he'd done while incapacitated and suspended in biomed gel. He'd created countless atrocities in the form of life in the labs here in Big MT, to which the Courier informed him had escaped and began breeding ages ago. The Cazadores he'd created were vile lifeforms, indiscriminately killing travelers and passerbys. Borous had never meant for that.. he'd only done these things in the name of science. He was under the impression that his works were doing the world a favor, by studying the effects of splicing on animals. How wrong he'd been. Out of all his colleagues, Borous was the one responsible for introducing the most horrors into this new world. Sure, Dr. 0 had programmed several dangerous robots within the facility to do their bidding, but those machines hadn't left or caused chaos and death for humanity. Borous' night stalkers and cazadores, however.. it was all his fault. 

Furthermore, what he'd done to Gabe was awful. He felt perhaps the most remorse towards that action, he still couldn't find the logic behind what compelled him to drug, torture, and abandon the only creature that ever showed any kind of love or affection for him. 

All of these things, the repentant attitude he now showed, plus his moping and self-pity, caused him to actively avoid the Courier whenever he could. He just couldn't bear to look her in the eyes, especially with her knowing nearly every horrible thing he'd done within the facility. She knew him perhaps better than anyone alive, and that was regrettable, for he was quite possibly the least merciful of all his colleagues - a terrible representation of the collective genius of Big MT. It was known that he possessed the most ruthless curiosity among them, which had led him to creating those atrocious lifeforms in the first place, but being the most prolific scientist here had its drawbacks, and among those drawbacks were regret, humiliation, and insecurity. 

However, he did retain one thing his colleagues did not, and that was his memories. Perhaps one thing he could remain proud of was his remembrance of the past. He remembered more of his past than any of his colleagues. He could remember most of his painful days in high school with varying accuracy, as well as his experiments on Gabe before he was merely a brain. No other scientist at Big MT could say the same. None of the others remembered anything of significance from their past lives. Two centuries of watching and rewinding those days of being bullied in American high had really done a number on him, though, and had caused him to become more and more sour, using a tendency towards the dramatic and theatrical to cover up his insecurity over lack of success with girls. 

He actively avoided most of his colleagues, except Dr. Klein, whom he'd been the closest with for as long as he could remember. Dr. Klein had certainly fallen a pedestal or two, for while he was still vain and dismissive, he was more humble than he could ever recall. The Courier had tried to help them all, spending an equal amount of time caring and providing for them. She brought him his food everyday, offered to go for walks with him (everyday, even though he'd declined nearly everyday), and attempted to counsel him emotionally. For what he'd done, he didn't deserve that much devotion. If the universe was partial, sentient, or fair, even, he'd be left to rot in Big MT. 

He nearly winced when he heard Harmony's footsteps outside of his pod. He laid his notes on cazadores lying face-down, hoping she wouldn't bring it up. He didn't need more reminding of his grievous sins. She carried with her a tray of food, it smelt like a soup of sorts. She was wearing an off-white camisole with a long, red skirt covering her legs, which caused him to envision some holy healer from a fantasy movie he remembered. She looked pretty, as usual, definitely out of character in Big MT, which had always been an assortment of intellectuals who cared little for physical beauty. 

"Good morning, Dr. Borous. It is pleasant to see you once again. I do hope you will allow me to care for you today? I suggest a stroll outside, or perhaps I can take you to one of your research facilities, and you could give me a tour - a real tour. Tell me of the theories you hatched in that brilliant mind of yours." She beamed, looking every inch the psychotherapist he imagined she would've been in a safer, stabler world. "Besides, it would serve you well to leave the pacification field. I do realize it has little to no effect on those with a brain, however I believe it causes some unpleasant effects on the psyche nonetheless." 

The idea was sound, he thought. He and his colleagues never dwelt much on the psychological effects of their contraptions, as they all believed psychology had no place in the higher fields of logic and reasoning. She could be right. In fact, it was likely she was right. But did he really want to join her on a walk? His ego was spread thin as it was, he didn't suppose it would serve her well to spend time with a wasted husk like him. Perhaps today.. today could be an exception. There was still a world out there waiting to be studied, prodded, and saved. It was UNpossible to do any of that in his pod - alone and sheltered from the wastes. 

"I.. I think I can give it a chance." He said, rising from his bed. She laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down slightly, inspiring a feverish blush on his high cheekbones. 

Imagine that: a girl touching him who wasn't Betsy Bright pushing his face into the water fountain. 

"Dr. Borous, I believe it prudent for you to take your breakfast before using your energy reserves to walk outside." Oh.. of course, she was just making sure he would sit down. Disappointment seemed to be his most prominent emotion these days. 

Despite that, he was itching for interaction with someone other than Dr. Klein. He was 70% positive he really really liked Harmony, and that their time together would be fruitful. Maybe he could ask for a hug.. he needed a hug. Scarfing down his soup, he looked to Harmony, who shook her head motherly, a napkin in her thin fingers rising to wipe the remnants of soup from his mustache. 

"Eating too quickly can cause abdominal pain and untimely bowel movements, if one isn't careful, my dear Dr. Borous. You should savor your food - appreciate it - for it provides you life and nourishment. A healthy body is a healthy mind, and a healthy mind makes for a marvelous world builder." He blushed at her chiding remark, and looked down at his bowl, which was empty save for some puddles of soup which was still slightly warm. She took the tray from his lap, and tucked some strands of dark hair behind his ear. 

Harmony made him feel important, she made him feel worthy. That is, until she left the room. When she looked into his eyes, he felt like he was redeemable - as though he were not a failed experiment, but rather a human of esteem and value. Her eyes twinkled at all times, like she was up to something, though it was usually to your benefit. 

"Come, Borous. I have a surprise waiting for you outside." 

A surprise? What could it possibly be?

"What-?" Before he could ask, she spoke up, effectively interrupting his speech, but not his curiosity.

"You'll see if you come outside. Don't worry, I am perfectly capable of protecting us from any stray roboscorpions that Mobius lost control of." He nodded, ashamed that he couldn't help defend them also. Simultaneously, she made him feel worthless and worthy. Paradoxical. 

Sometimes, he paced back and forth in his own meager pod. Sometimes, he and Dr. Klein paced back and forth throughout the many hallways of the facility, theorizing on how best to make a speedy recovery to once again rejoin humanity. Neither of them ever found a conclusion, of course, since Klein plotted while Borous consistently countered all of his plots, leading them only to impersonal disagreements and arguments that led nowhere. He didn't go outside much, and he certainly didn't stray far from the facility when he did. He wasn't near-handicapped like 8 was, but he could admit to some lingering fear of the outside world. Even before he and his colleagues had been brainwashed and pacified, they feared going beyond the crater. The outside world was always full of those who didn't appreciate their genius, or those who could steal their hard-earned theories and idea-ology. 

It was unbearably ugly outside. There was nothing green, nothing to remind him of his life before (not that THAT particular subject was agreeable either). It was gray, lifeless, devastated and ravaged. Surely, they'd fulfilled their B-movie sci-fi prophecy with this grief. 

"Alright, close your eyes, Borous." He did as she asked, though begrudgingly. 

She took him by hand and arm, tucking his limb in her own so as to guide him. His steps were sure, though scientists were never known for their physical gracefulness. He could admit to clumsiness every once and awhile. It must've been about 100 feet ahead before she stopped them. When he tried opening his eyes, she uttered a noise which sounded like she was admonishing a dog. She then told him it was safe to open his eyes, and he did. What he was met with caused him shock, then relief, then happiness he hadn't felt in hundreds of years. He couldn't remember such gratification since his days of being top in biology class. It was Gabe, in the flesh. 

His lower lip shook, though not in grief, but in joy and gratitude. She'd gone back to that dreaded research facility, healed Gabe, and brought him back to his master in healthy condition. Gabe looked up at him with those big, brown eyes, those eyes that took pity on him when he'd been rejected by Betsy, when he'd been mercilessly bullied by Ritchie, and when Klein told him his theory on wolves influencing monogamous behavior in humans was crackpot. A flicker of recognition founds its way into Gabe's loving eyes, and his head tilted, much like it had in the beginning, when he was still a pup. 

The canine walked forward a bit, sniffing at Borous' heels, before launching his assault. He began whining, crying, at the first sight of his master in centuries. Gabe remembered him.. Borous couldn't contain the tears that fell from his eyes then. Gabe bustled around his heels, pawing at his knees, and running in a circle around his body. All the while, the culprit behind his happiness: Harmony, stood back with her arms crossed and laughed merrily at the sight of Borous reunited with his faithful doggie companion/test subject. 

"Thank you, Harmony.. you don't know how.. happy I am that Gabe is back where he belongs. If there is anyway I can repay you, please let me know. You've done something truly wonderful for me. And, I can't shake the feeling that I don't deserve it, after everything I have done." 

"I wanted you to be reunited with your oldest friend, Borous. Reconnecting the bond you had with Gabe was something I believe you needed to kickstart your healing process. But, if there is one thing I could ask, it is that you read some comics to me, in that overly dramatic sci-fi voice you're so good at." She said. 

"I would be DELIGHTED to!" He immediately replied. He'd never known that others would even notice the performance he gave with his overly dramatic inflections. "When can we start?" He asked excitedly. 

"How about today?" She recommended. 

Gabe was at his heels now, where he belonged. And the Courier leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. It felt awkward at first, as he hadn't hugged anyone in centuries, especially not a girl. He'd believed they were yucky until the Courier came along and saved him. Shyly, he returned the gesture. He felt complete, like he could finally move on from his horrible, horrible past at American High and Big MT.


End file.
